


Chance Encounters

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-13
Updated: 2005-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Helo and Starbuck meet for the first time over a game of cards…</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Encounters

Helo glanced at the cards he held and decided they were totally, utterly, and completely beyond redemption. He should have folded long since; too stubborn, he supposed, or maybe too much ambrosia. Raising his glass, he took a swig of the green and fiery liquid.

"I'm in." He tossed 20 jubals into the pot. The coins skittered across the table and came to rest more or less in the center, before they could roll to the edge of the small table and make a break for it. Their headlong flight was stopped by other coins and a titanium chrono.

"You've got nothing," the blonde to his right said derisively. Smoke curled upward from the cigar she held in one hand; it merged with the cloud that hovered near the ceiling, a more-or-less permanent fixture of the Cat Scratch Bar and Grill. Helo noticed that the bluish smoke was nearly the same shade as her sweater.

"And you would know this how?" He used her accusation as an excuse to turn his head, observe her full on. He shifted the sucker from his right cheek to his left with practiced ease, and was gratified to see her gaze focus on his mouth.

Lifting her eyes back to his, she placed her cigar between her lips and, with great deliberation, puffed once. Then she took the cigar between thumb and forefinger and blew a double ring his way. It was Helo's turn to focus on _her_ mouth. He cocked an eyebrow, speculated about just what else she could do with those lovely and obviously talented lips.

"You're more enthusiastic with your bets." Her voice was low and as smoky as the room.

It took a few seconds for her words to finally register, given the distraction of her mouth and his own imagination. Helo frowned; his train of thought had vanished like those wisps of smoke. "What?"

She smirked. "When you don't have squat."

Helo decided that he liked her smile. He returned it cheerfully and said, "Frak you. You in or out?"

She tossed in some coins of her own. "I'll see your bet and raise you five." She hadn't looked at her cards. In fact, she hadn't paid attention to anything but Helo since he had started playing with the lollipop.

"It's about damn time you two stopped makin' googly eyes at each other and started playin' Triad," the gorilla across from Helo growled. He'd been the one to start the betting and had grown increasingly agitated with each delay.

The blonde threw her head back with a great, whooping laugh. Then and there, Helo knew he was in love – or at least lust. He leered at her and waggled his brows, which made her laugh harder, ending on a snort.

"Oh, that's good," she said, eyeing the gorilla. "And you made that up all by yourself… Googly eyes." She laughed again, slapped a hand to her stomach, and shook her head in mocking amazement.

Helo rolled the sucker around in his mouth, savoring the sweetness of the candy as much as the richness of her laughter. Her brown eyes sparkled in the dim light and he thought – hoped? – that things just might get more interesting before the night was through. He made a mental note to find out her name.

Monkey Boy's neck and face turned a remarkable shade of red. "Are you laughing at me, girl?" he snarled. The gallery surrounding the card table, sensing trouble, went quiet in an outwardly radiating ripple. If there was a fight, there'd be quite a few bets on the outcome.

The sexy blonde, exaggerated innocence on her face, turned toward the dealer as if to say, "Can you believe this guy?" Then she winked at Helo a second later and took the cigar more firmly between her teeth. Helo was entranced.

He had the sudden impression that this woman could take on Monkey Boy in a fair fight and win – she might appear soft, but there was a sharp edge to her, that of a sleek hunting cat, rather than a soft housecat. But Helo was sure Monkey Boy wouldn't fight fair, if it came to blows.

"Am I laughing at you?" she repeated the question with an air of feigned surprise. "Why, yes, I think I am." There was a recklessness in her sparkling eyes; her smile scared Helo a little. He took another mouthful of cheap ambrosia, unsure whether he had seen a reflection of his own lust in her, or if it was only wishful thinking on his part.

The dealer threw in his hand. "I'm out." He stood, gathered up his remaining funds, and beat a hasty retreat, apparently not liking the atmosphere brewing in the old Cat Scratch. _Stupid name for a bar_, Helo thought absently, watching Monkey Boy for warning signs that Sexy Blonde had pushed him too far.

Face more purple than red – that couldn't be good for him – Monkey Boy tossed another handful of jubals into the pile. "Call."

Frak. Helo sighed and laid down his pitiful cards. Too bad his bluff had been called; he still had two more days of leave, but almost no money. There was enough to pay his bar tab, maybe buy a drink for the slightly scary, majorly Sexy Blonde, but that was it.

Sneering, Monkey Boy spread out his cards with a flourish. Unless she had a better hand, the gorilla's cards were definitely a winning configuration. There were only two hands that could beat it – full colors or a reverse. Helo realized that he wouldn't mind losing this bleak hand to Sexy Blonde nearly as much as he would to Monkey Boy. He watched the gorilla warily as she slowly, smugly revealed her cards with a full-blown grin, "bite me" written all over her expressive face.

A reverse triad.

With a roar of rage and frustration, Monkey Boy surged to his feet and overturned the table, scattering jubals and cards and drinks in a wide arc. The men and women of the gallery backed off a few steps. Helo thought he heard someone in the crowd bet ten jubals on the blonde.

As he stood and took a step toward Monkey Boy, his boot connected with something and Helo looked down. The titanium chrono from the pot skittered across the sticky floor. _What a waste_, he thought as the chrono winked back at him from a pool of ambrosia. With a quick glance toward Monkey Boy and Sexy Blonde, Helo bent and picked up the chrono and a handful of nearby coins. If nothing else, maybe he could get some of her winnings to her…

She stood to his right, clearly ready for it if the gorilla chose to attack. A flash of silver at her throat drew Helo's attention for a second, long enough for him to recognize a set of dog tags. _Colonial military, huh? Has to be a pilot, cocky as she is._ He grinned around his half-finished lollipop.

Monkey Boy took a militant step their way, and Helo seized his arm. "Not so fast," he said, firming up the grip of his left hand while he formed a fist with his right.

The gorilla swung, using his greater weight and bulk to advantage. A ham-like fist struck solidly at the point of Helo's jaw, flinging his head hard to one side. He grabbed the collar of Helo's shirt and cocked his fist for another blow.

Two things happened then that doomed the guy to an embarrassingly rapid defeat – Helo's fist connected in an uppercut to the gorilla's jaw and Sexy Blonde brought a chair down on the unfortunate primate's head. Monkey Boy dropped like a stone.

"Frak, woman, I think you killed him," Helo observed.

Eyes still shining with excitement, Sexy Blonde let out another whooping laugh and captured Helo's hand, dragging him from the bar. "Just in case," she shot over her shoulder. A glance back as they made their way toward the exit reassured Helo that Monkey Boy had survived the encounter – a couple of seconds later, his bellow could be heard, shouting for their heads.

***

Kara held the hand of the man with the great mouth and ran for all she was worth. It had taken them only a very short time to negotiate the crowd in the bar – she had recognized quite a few faces from Fleet HQ, most of whom had aided and abetted their escape.

Grinning like a fool, she looked back at her partner, who still held the stick of his sucker firmly between even, white teeth. He winked at her, hazel eyes dancing, and she felt a surge of heat race through her body. Distracted, she almost tripped as they ran headlong off a curb and into the deserted street. She caught herself at the last minute, left foot landing in a puddle, splashing water up to her knee.

The harsh orange light of the too-bright street lamps reflected from dozens of puddles, both large and small, as well as from the cobbled pavement. It must have rained while they were in the bar – the air had that thick feel to it that was Picon after a rainstorm.

"I think we may be clear," her companion said, a little out of breath. Her own breathing was too fast and she thought that might have as much to do with the man whose hand she held as with the distance they had run.

Kara spotted the entrance to an alley a few meters ahead. She gripped his hand more firmly and pulled him toward it. Ducking into the alley, Kara gave in to impulse and pulled him hard against her. She pressed her back into the damp, uneven surface of a brick wall and pulled his head down, running her fingers through his soft, dark hair. His body heat enveloped her as their open mouths slid into alignment. He had lost the sucker somewhere – he tasted of sugar and ambrosia and hunger.

Frustrated by the clothing that blocked her from his skin, Kara reached between them, fumbled for his belt – she didn't want subtlety – and his fingers met hers. She moaned in protest when he pulled his mouth away, but quieted when she felt his lips and teeth and tongue at her throat, marking a wet path to her collarbone.

He nipped at her breast through her sweater, pushed her trousers and underwear down around her knees. She took over from there, pushed them the rest of the way down, freed her right leg. He kissed her again and she sucked his tongue into her mouth, worked at the buttons of his shirt until she felt smooth skin and hard muscle under her fingertips, her palms. She lost track of everything when he slid a finger inside her, stroked her sex.

She had no idea how much time had passed – seconds, hours, days – when he put enough space between them to push his own trousers and briefs out of the way. Unhappy with the separation, Kara closed her fingers around his cock, pulled his head back into reach for another hungry kiss. Wanting more, she lifted her free leg and hooked it over his now bare hip, rocked against him. She squeezed his cock and he groaned, slid another finger into her slick heat. An incoherent sound of frustration escaped her – that wasn't at all what she wanted inside her.

_Gods, smart boy_, was her last rational thought as he understood what she needed and slammed into her, his cock replacing his fingers. Then she couldn't think at all. She no longer felt the hard wall that abraded her bare back – she couldn't remember when he had pulled up her sweater, unfastened her bra – all she knew was this man pounding into her.

Too fast, it was over, both of them spent. The only thing that held her up – she was sure she no longer had any bones – was his body, pinning her to the wall. She felt his heart race against her breasts, skin to skin. It felt good, his heat, as the night breeze cooled her flushed body.

His breath in her hair tickled as he laughed softly. He pulled away to look at her, gently smoothed the hair from her forehead. His grin was wicked as he introduced himself. "Karl Agathon, damned glad to meet you."

Holding onto him still, both arms around his shoulders, she snorted and murmured, "Kara Thrace. I'm charmed, Karl."

"Call me Helo," he said as he kissed her again, this time without the frantic urgency of before. Nor was there anything but slow promise in the hand that reached up between them to cup her left breast. She bit his lip.

He smiled against her mouth, but then pulled back, tugged her sweater back into place. Kara reached under the soft knit, caught the loose ends of her civilian bra. She refastened it, not caring if she got the hooks right, and shrugged her shoulders to allow the sweater to settle. "We could find someplace more private," Helo suggested as he crouched down, lifted her bare right foot – where the hell was her other shoe? – and helped her back into her pants.

"Oh, absolutely." The sound of a siren in the distance grew louder as it came closer. His trousers were still unzipped, leaving a tantalizing view that was just short of indecent. He lightly bit her inner thigh as he stood and she became fascinated by the play of the orange light on the smooth skin of his chest and the glittering chain of his dog tags. Both were distractingly visible since he had yet to button his shirt – she couldn't recall either of them unbuttoning it. "Your quarters or mine?"

He caressed her stomach as he finished with her belt. She felt lightheaded at his touch as he bent his head again, lifted her sweater and bra, and sucked a nipple into his mouth. She gasped and clutched his shoulders. "Don't stop." The whine of an engine, the sound of a door opening then closing somewhere far off, faded into the background as a bolt of lightning shot through her.

A man's voice jolted her back to reality. "Step away from each other and put your hands on your heads. You are under arrest."

And Kara realized that the sounds hadn't been so far off, after all.

***

"Lieutenant Adama." Lee welcomed the distraction from paperwork as he took the call.

_"Lieutenant, I'm sorry to bother you, but I have a Sergeant Demarkus of the Picon City Police Department on the line."_ The petty officer looked flustered, his voice agitated. _"He says he has two of our officers in the local lockup."_

Lee laid down his pen and focused on the screen. "Isn't Lieutenant Janga the duty officer?" It was bad enough that the Colonel had dumped a mass of "urgent" paperwork on him at the last minute…

_"Yes, sir, but there was an emergency. She was called away and I don't know who else to call."_ The poor kid looked like he wanted to eat his pistol at the thought of having to deal with the locals on his own; Lee didn't blame him.

He sighed. "Put him through, Petty Officer."

The image of the young man in Colonial blue was replaced by that of an older man, thin face lined by years. He wore the black, quasi-military uniform of the local police. _"Lieutenant Adama, Nick Demarkus. I need you people to come out here and pick up a couple of your officers. They tore up a bar and then decided to take a break for sex in an alley. We're holding them on charges of assault, drunk and disorderly, and public indecency."_ Demarkus shrugged and took a drink of something Lee took to be coffee, given the steam that spiraled up from the mug. _"Normally, I'd just let 'em twist, but the mayor wants to improve relations between the citizens and the military, so…"_

"I understand, Sergeant." Lee closed his eyes, said a quick prayer to the Gods that Kara had nothing to do with this – he'd been forced to leave her waiting for hours… "I'll have someone swing by and take them off your hands. Do you have their names?"

Demarkus shuffled through the papers on his desk – the stacks looked remarkably like those that currently graced Lee's – and then said, _"No, Lieutenant. Two officers, that's all I know right now. They'll have the names at the counter."_

"All right, Sergeant. Thank you for notifying us." There had been a lot of tension between the military and the locals lately, most of it petty disputes blown up by the media. Both sides wanted to let things settle down to the status quo that had been in existence since Fleet Headquarters had been established in Picon City more than thirty years ago.

Not knowing what he'd find at the police station – a couple of docile, happy drunks he could handle by himself or a pair of belligerents in need of cuffs and military police – Lee punched a button. "Petty Officer, call up a transport for five and have two MPs meet me at the motor pool."

_"Yes, sir."_

***

Lee stood outside the Picon City jail, staring up the stone steps at the sidelights of the main entrance. An MP stood beside him; the other remained with the prisoner transport.

"Wait in the lobby," he said, then climbed the stairs, the MP following in silence. Lee hoped that it was late enough that there would be no chance observers, no one to recognize the uniforms and complicate the incident.

The duty officer behind the counter looked up from the book she read. "Can I help you?"

"I believe you have two Colonial officers in custody?"

She trailed a finger down her log, pausing twice to read. "Yes, here they are. Lieutenant Kara Thrace and Ensign Karl Agathon."

_Dammit, Kara, not again._ There was a sudden tightness in his chest that he couldn't explain – didn't want to explain.

Without a word, Lee handed the woman a copy of the orders he carried. She took a moment to scan the high points of the form, the gist of which authorized the release of two Colonial military personnel into fleet custody, charges against them to be transferred from civilian to military jurisdiction. "I'll have to show this to the Sergeant…"

Lee nodded his assent; he'd expected that. "While you check with your Sergeant, may I speak to the prisoners?"

There was a short pause while she apparently thought over his request. "I don't suppose that could hurt. This way," she glanced down at the paperwork again, "Lieutenant Adama."

There was a buzz and a click and she pulled the gate open, beckoning him through a doorway behind her desk. A short distance down an institutional corridor led them to a locked hatch. She tapped in a six-digit code and pushed the door open, standing aside for Lee to enter. "They're the only ones in the tank, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, Officer…?"

"Larris."

"Thank you, Officer Larris. I appreciate your assistance."

Lee walked down the hallway toward the cell at the end, hearing the murmur of voices beneath the echo of his footsteps. He slowed, reluctant to have that first glimpse of the man who had been arrested with Kara on charges of public indecency.

"…of a first date, Helo," Kara was saying as Lee made his final approach.

He looked past the cold steel bars to where she lay on a bench, her head in the man's lap while he played with her soft hair. The sight caused an unwanted surge of betrayal and jealousy that surprised him.

"Atten-_shun_!"

"Lee!" Kara sat upright, brown eyes wide with surprise. She darted a quick glance toward her cellmate and then her attention was all on Lee, an expression in her eyes that he couldn't fathom before she masked it with the trademark Starbuck Smirk.

"You will stand at attention, Lieutenant." Lee didn't try to keep the anger and disappointment from his voice.

Kara stood, her eyes locked on his. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant Adama, sir." She threw him a snappy salute and dropped her arm to her side. Then she turned her head slightly to look down at Agathon, who still sat on the bench, head against the wall, eyes closed. A lock of her hair fell from behind her ear, momentarily obscured her face until she impatiently re-tucked the errant strands. "Shouldn't you stand at attention, too?"

"I think he's only interested in you, Kara." The man's quiet reply drew Lee's interest. Civilian clothing, hair cropped military short – he might have seen him at HQ, but couldn't be sure.

"Both of you, stand at attention," he ordered. "You are a disgrace to the service."

Agathon opened his eyes, pushed himself up from the bench – at least she hadn't frakked a superior officer, this time – and raised right hand to brow in a regulation salute. He kept his expression neutral, but didn't meet Lee's eyes – Lee thought Agathon, at least, might be ashamed. Kara's eyes slid to him and back to Lee before she followed suit, straightening as she saluted, all mockery gone.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Lieutenant?"

Her jaw worked for a minute. "Not a damn thing, Lee."

His voice was wintry when he said, "You may call me 'Lieutenant' or 'sir.'" He turned to Agathon. "How about you, Ensign?"

The man sucked at his cheek. "I have no excuse, sir."

Lee shook his head in disgust. He didn't care about Agathon, but Kara… He took a step toward the cell door. "Kara, how could you?" he asked quietly, friend-to-friend rather than superior-to-subordinate. He was honestly curious as to what had possessed her to frak a stranger in an alley, where anyone could stumble across them – and apparently had.

"With all due respect, what d'you care? Sir."

That hurt; not the flippant attitude, but the tacked on term of respect, which showed anything but. Kara was his friend, had been since they'd met at flight school years before. She was one of the few people in whom he'd confided about his brother, his parents – particularly his father – as well as his own fears and self-doubts.

In spite of his resolve only seconds before to not let her get to him, he felt his temper fraying. Lee stepped back from the bars of the cell, clamped down on his personal feelings. "You are officers in the Colonial Fleet, whether you are on duty or not. What you do reflects on the Fleet, whether you are in uniform, or…not." _Sex in an alley, Kara! Gods!_ "The Cat Scratch is close enough to Fleet Headquarters that it is assumed that anyone in that bar with short hair and an attitude is military."

The Ensign examined a spot just above Lee's head, jaw clenched. Kara still stared him in the eye, her expression mutinous.

"Lieutenant Adama?" Officer Larris stood behind him – Lee hadn't heard her approach. "Sergeant Demarkus will be with you in a minute, if you'll please come with me."

***

As Lee turned his back on her and followed the cop, Kara allowed her shoulders to settle, her jaw to relax.

"Did you say something?" She didn't look at Helo, afraid that he would see too much.

"I asked if you're okay." He sat on the bench again, took hold of her right hand and pulled her down next to him. "Boyfriend?"

She tried to play it off. She'd only known Helo for a few hours, so he couldn't possibly read her so easily. "Lee?" A brief, harsh laugh. "No. Lee and I are friends. I don't understand why. I'm always pissing him off." She leaned back against Helo's chest, her focus beyond the bars of the cell. "Part of being a frak-up, I suppose." She'd always been a frak-up.

Helo's kiss on the palm of her hand startled her out of her self-pity. She shifted a little so that she could see him without straining her neck. That wicked grin of his was back. "Boyfriend or not, Kara, I have a feeling most of the charges are going to be either dropped or reduced."

She shook her head. "Lee wouldn't do that. He's too straight."

"The Lieutenant may be a bit more bent than you think." Helo said it so quietly, his mouth distractingly close to her ear, that Kara didn't know how to respond. She leaned back into his warmth and Helo wrapped her in his arms. It felt good; not so much like she belonged there, but that she belonged there _right now_.

She didn't know how long it would be before Lee returned, but she didn't plan to waste time thinking about maybes and might-have-beens. She settled her head more comfortably into Helo's shoulder. "So, Karl…"


End file.
